Written in the Stars
by rainfromheaven
Summary: He may have loved her long before Ilse Dessalier learned to love him, but she loved James Potter more than Lily Evans ever would—enough to let go when he had found his happiness in Lily. They were meant to be, Ilse knew. But the stars knew differently.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** This was written for Diandra's You/CanonCharacter Challenge. Hope it's good enough. :) I think I kind of hurried it towards the end, but that was because this is a short story and so should not be as detailed as the usual stuff I write. Haha. Anyway, please leave me a review and tell me what you think:)

**Chapter Summary:** Ilse didn't need him. She was fine on her own, and she knew how to count. But she didn't waste time counting the stars; they were too many. With him, though, there was just enough to light their world. Too bad she couldn't count without him.

* * *

**Chapter One  
Count the Stars**

_One hundred thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven. One hundred and thirty-eight._

Ilse Dessalier squinted at the unusually dark sky. If she just tried hard enough, she could see approximately a couple dozen more stars above, albeit twinkling a little less brightly. But even that was a far count from the five hundred and twenty-six she and James had counted several months ago.

She hugged her knees to her chest and attempted a weak smile. Every night, she counted the stars, and every night, she counted less. Either her eyes weren't keen enough or heaven's light just didn't want to shine on her anymore. Ilse would bet on the latter.

_Perhaps if he comes tonight, the stars would shine again._

Just the hope—the very thought—accelerated the pounding of her heart. _Stop it!_ she screamed mentally at herself. Ilse took deep calming breaths, forcing herself to relax. _Enough.__He did not spend the last one hundred and twelve nights with you, so why should this time be any different?_

"Because he spent the hundred thirteenth night ago with me," she whispered to herself._And the hundred fourteenth, hundred fifteenth..._ She swallowed a particularly hard lump. She could go on and count back to two hundred and eighty-seven nights ago, to that night when a stranger had first kept her company.

* * *

Ilse hurriedly but carefully climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, her pillow and blanket secured under one arm. It was already past ten in the evening, and she must not get caught abound out of hours. She had seen the Head Girl return to their dormitory half an hour ago and expected the Head Boy to arrive soon, but she had been disappointed. She usually waited until both had finished their security rounds before sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room; with tonight's unusual circumstances, however, she had decided to throw caution to the winds and to proceed as planned.

She craned her neck around the gate to the rooftop to check if the coast was clear and then recoiled as though hit with a bucket of cold water in the face. There was someone lying still on the floor! She flattened herself against the wall first before mustering enough courage to peer again.

A feeling of intrusion engulfed her the moment she realised somebody had indeed stolen her usual spot, the only place in Hogwarts she'd taken for herself._What is that arrogant toerag doing here?_ she furiously thought, ready to storm over to where he was and kick him out of her turf.

But then he suddenly sat up, his familiar black hair sticking messily from the back of his head. She watched him in astonished silence as he roughly removed his glasses and buried his face in his hands.

He let out a choked sob.

Stricken, Ilse decided to turn back and leave him to his obvious grief. She could go back to her dormitory and do her nightly routine of melancholic musing there. She swivelled on the spot and tiptoed back as quietly as she could to the stairs.

_Crack!_

A twig on the floor snapped in two after she had stepped over it. She stopped in her tracks and cast a horrified glance backwards, praying he did not notice. But as with everything else in her life, she had never really been that fortunate.

James Potter was gazing at her with mingled shock and humiliation at being discovered in such a situation, his emotions magnified by the glasses he had put back on. He mechanically stood up and started walking towards her while she remained rooted to the spot.

Ilse gnawed at her bottom lip as he neared her, his large frame inexplicably frightening. "I'm sor—sorry," she had squeaked out. "I didn't mean to—I won't tell anybody."

Standing approximately a foot away from him with his face illuminated by the moon above, she could easily note how weary he appeared to be. The lost expression he was wearing was a far cry from the arrogant smirk that usually painted his face, and it was then that she remembered that Gryffindor had lost a Quidditch match earlier that day, which permanently put them out of the running.

"What are you doing here?" he had asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

She stepped back. "I—I usually stay here." Ilse glanced longingly at the spot he had just vacated, desperately wishing she was alone there and wrapped snugly in her own blanket.

He just stared at her intensely with his hazel eyes. Ilse shuddered; he looked dangerous. "I guess I'll just—I'll just go then? You can—can stay here for the—for the moment. If it comforts you." She spun on her heels and made her way once more to the stairs, but her progress was halted by the large hand that had landed on her shoulder. She slowly turned to face him again, heart thudding in her chest.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for taking your spot without asking," James said. "You can have it back." He lifted his hand from her shoulder and took a single stride past her. She followed his hunched, retreating form with her slate-blue eyes, dumbfounded. _That's it? No detention? No points taken from Gryffindor? _A wave of pity washed over her.

"We can share." The words were out of her mouth before she understood what she was saying.

James looked back at her, his lips curved in the merest half-smile as he considered her. For the first time in her life, Ilse felt her toes curl and a shiver run through her, both of which she didn't think she could ever associate with fear. Unnerved, she turned her back on him and walked to what she personally referred to as her own little space at Hogwarts. She sat down on the cold marble floor, stretched her legs out and covered them with her comforter.

She heard his footsteps and inhaled his scent before she felt him sit down beside her. Her fingers played with the fibres of her coverlet, unsure of what to do next.

When she next looked at him, he had already eased himself on the floor and crossed his arms behind his head. For several moments, she simply watched him as he stared blankly at the sky.

"I promise not to ask questions."

James did not show any sign of wanting to respond to what she said, so she sighed and lay down on the floor, her brown head cushioned by her pillow.

Long minutes ticked away without any of them really noticing.

"Are you asleep?" she heard him murmur hesitantly.

"No," she replied softly, wondering what he had in mind.

He flashed a lopsided smile, the one that was rumoured to drive many girls crazy. "Can I talk?"

She was exhausted and had better things to do than listen to the most likely shallow pains of Hogwarts' golden boy. And yet she rolled over to face him—and as she did, she had the inkling that nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

Ilse squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall. She should have trusted her instincts that night; she should have allowed him to go on his own way and to mind his own business! But she had been dumb. She had been lulled by the idea that there was somebody who was willing to confide in her, to treat her like a friend. And so she had listened to him lament the loss of Gryffindor to Slytherin, had listened to him blame himself for that mishap, had clumsily comforted him by stuttering that things would look better in the morning.

Expecting it to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience—for how many times would James Potter let that weaker side of him show?—she had not expected him to be there the following night, smiling happily at her.

"I had been waiting for you," he had told her. If this was how he made friends, then it was no wonder he had many of them.

And again they had talked, this time of many different things. There was something to be said about the upcoming N.E.W.T.s and what they wanted to be once they've left school, after all. The night grew deeper, and only then did he decide that it was time for them to return to their own dormitories.

"Good night," James had told her once they were inside the common room.

"Good night," she had returned, her eyes trained on the carpet. Ilse had turned around and slowly walked towards the stairs, but then James had called out.

"Will I see you again tomorrow?"

Unexpectedly, her heart jumped. "You know where to find me."

He did know. Every night thereafter, James was with her atop the Astronomy Tower, speaking of the thousand matters crowding his mind and his life. The Marauders, the evil threatening the Wizarding world and what he planned to do about it, the extraordinary lunch served that day. Most of the time, it was him who spoke, but he did press her to tell him more about herself. She couldn't; unlike him, her life lacked colour.

There was one subject, however, that James could not help but mention every night. It was the girl of his dreams, the one he swore he loved and would marry someday. Lily Evans. Ilse patiently heard him whenever he narrated how Lily had delivered her latest _no_ and how he was in actuality making progress. Matters of the heart did not interest her the way they did her fellow students, but that did not mean she hated them. Ilse was fine with such trivialities as long as they were coming from other people and not from her.

Conversations with James were like a rollercoaster ride. There were moments when she laughed so hard that her stomach ached—that was an achievement on his behalf, considering the fact that she rarely laughed—and yet there were times when the seriousness of his face was so intense so that his features almost seemed like they were carved in stone.

One night, after a particularly long silence, Ilse had remarked on how she was having trouble sleeping as of late.

"Are you having bad dreams?" James asked, a note of concern in his voice.

She had realised her slip and bit her lip as she tried to come up with an excuse. The truth was that whenever she returned to her dormitory after spending time with him, she could not put herself to sleep because she still saw him every time she closed her eyes. She could still hear his voice, remember the way he smelled when he was so near her under his Invisibility Cloak, and feel the warmth that had spread through her when he had cupped her elbow on the way back.

When she shook her head no, he laughed and suggested, "Well, you can try counting sheep."

"I don't have any sheep to count," Ilse softly countered, her eyes fixed on the sky.

James followed her line of sight. "You're right. How about the stars then?"

"They're impossible to count. They're too many."

"No, they're not," James refuted. "As long as you don't bother counting what you don't see, it isn't impossible."

"Just because you don't see them doesn't mean they're not there."

He chuckled. "For the purpose of trying to make you feel sleepy, we can pretend they're not there." He surveyed the heavens and pointed to a group of stars to their right. "Let's start with that, shall we? One, two..."

"...Three hundred fifty-eight," Ilse finished with a yawn. She smiled shyly at him. "It worked. Thank you."

"My pleasure," James answered with a grin. "We can do this every night, if you want."

So it was that after spending a couple of hours or so talking, they devoted the last part of their time awake counting the stars. Depending on the weather during the day, the number they resulted with at night varied.

"You know, I cannot even imagine how the centaurs can tell the future with all of those stars above," James commented in exhaustion after they had ended up with four hundred and twenty-six.

Ilse wrinkled her nose doubtfully. "I doubt the future can even be told, if you know what I mean."

"I can see mine already," James said. "Mine's as bright as the sun—and the sun is a star, of course."

She smiled, amused at how highly he thought of himself. "You're probably right," she agreed. He had it all, after all. He had all the makings of a successful life, and he did seem to have a wonderful tomorrow ahead of him.

"But I cannot definitely see everything perfectly," he continued. "I didn't anticipate, for instance, being friends with you." He glanced at her and smiled. "It was a pleasant surprise anyway, finding somebody as easy to talk to as you. I didn't think a stranger could be a friend."

Ilse was grateful it was dark; she knew that if she felt her cheeks with her palm, they would be warm. His words inexplicably thrilled her, but if they were friends like he said they were, then why didn't he notice her during the day? They were classmates in almost every class, they shared the same long lunch table in the Great Hall, and they stayed in the same common room during the afternoons. Why had he never given any indication of knowing her?

_Maybe because he doesn't really know me__since__he's the one who usually talks. Sometimes I feel like I already know him too well._

Or maybe she didn't count because she wasn't bright enough for him to see her, so that the only chance for her to shine was during the night. It was when she could twinkle dimly enough to be visible.

She wasn't his sun.

But Ilse didn't mind. She may not be his sun, but she had once been his only light. That once that had sparked the beginnings of a friendship.

Once was enough.

And one night without him was enough to make her realise just how much James Potter meant to her.

She had waited until a clock somewhere in the castle had struck midnight, her arms wrapped around her knees under her blanket in an effort to keep her warm. He did not come. She wistfully looked up at the stars, silently apologising for neglecting them that night.

Dejected, Ilse had quietly made her way back to the Gryffindor common room—and saw James holding his dream in his arms.

Lily Evans.

He had been correct in foreseeing his future; he had said it was going to bright, so it definitely didn't include her.

Her blue eyes met his hazel ones, his registering surprise. Ilse wasn't sure whether it was due to his embarrassment at being caught in such a situation or due to his shock at seeing her in full light for the first time.

"Ilse," he greeted with a slight smile, and then with a wink.

It was the first time he had ever said her name.

It was also the first instance she had ever known pain.

Still, the following night, she had climbed her way to the Astronomy Tower. Ilse reasoned out that she did so because that was what she had been doing for years, but she knew that down in the deepest corners of her heart, she wanted to see if James would come and decide to stay with her again.

He did not, and Ilse cursed her own weakness.

She had been numb for most of her life, living through each day like an empty shell, devoid of strong emotions. It was her shield, her defence, so that nothing could hurt her. James had somehow found a way to penetrate that wall, and she had let him. Now that he had awaken her heart to such a passionate and traitorous feeling, she was just as vulnerable as anybody else.

There was a time when the sight of him filled her with a sense of completion, of belonging, and reminded her of all the good things in the world. Every time she saw him now, however, it was as though a knife was shredding her heart to pieces. Sitting by herself at night and gazing at the heavens, she ended up remembering all the moments they had shared and wishing they would happen again.

It was foolish, she knew. What person in his right mind would give up the light for the dark?

As the nights wore on, Ilse had quite convinced herself that she had not really known James Potter.

That was until her encounter with the equally infamous Sirius Black.

"You're Ilse Dessalier," Sirius had said, leaning his back against the portrait hole of the common room just as she was about to sneak out.

She simply bit her lower lip. Attention from anybody was what she didn't need. Last time she took what was offered, and looked how _that_ turned out.

"James used to tell me about you. He said you were good friends."

_Good friends._ Bitterness engulfed every fibre of her being, and yet she remained silent.

Sirius scratched his head. "Funny. He also told me you make excellent conversation, and yet you don't even seem to be capable of uttering a single word."

Ilse just stared at him, unfeeling. _What does he want?_

Laughter like the peal of bells rang out from the other side of the room. She jerked her head automatically towards the sound, a strange expression of sadness and longing shadowing her face.

"I'm going out," Ilse mumbled, not looking at him. Sirius stepped aside to let her pass but grabbed her arm at the last second. She met his ice-grey eyes warily.

"You care a lot more about James Potter than you let on."

Ilse wrenched her arm free from his grasp, slid the door open and rushed out. She ran as fast she could up the stairs to the tower, to her sanctuary, as though she could forget the words that echoed in her head.

_You care a lot more about James Potter than you let on._

Breathing heavily, she looked over the school grounds, feeling like all her wounds were being reopened once again. Why did that idiot have to remind her about him?

She sank to her knees and clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs she knew were coming. Even when she had seen James with Lily, she had not cried. She had been hurt, but she had wasted no tears.

Now she was going to submit to that ultimate act of helplessness: crying. Salty rivers that had long been locked up started streaming down her cheeks, and her shoulders shook with every gasp of air she took.

She loved him.

It was short. It was simple. It was the truth.

And yet it made her weep.

Even now, eighty-four nights after, the tears still flowed.

"This is all your fault, James Potter!" Ilse shouted angrily. "I didn't need you before! I was fine before I met you! And then you had to show up and take my space and talk to me..." Her voice softened as she went on. "And help me count stars and make me feel cherished and teach me to love..."

_I love him._

But her love clearly wasn't enough to write a happy ending. Back in the common room only hours before, a voice had called her name. She had frozen, knowing exactly who it belonged to for it was the same one she had heard in her dreams. Oh, how long she had waited for this moment!

She slowly turned to face him, finding him beaming, as was usual for him these days.

"You look pale. Haven't you been getting enough sleep lately?" he questioned playfully.

In spite of all that she'd been through, she managed a weak smile. "I haven't got anybody to count the stars with."

James looked thoughtful for a while, as though he too was reminiscing their time together. "Yes, it's been some time, isn't it? I miss those nights."

She opened her mouth to say the same thing, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He flipped it open and raised it so she could see it better.

Cushioned inside was a diamond ring.

Her throat tightened, and her insides caved in.

"It's for Lily; I'm going to ask her to marry me." James closed the box and replaced it in his pocket, his forehead now creased with worry. "Do you think she'll like it?"

Ilse could only nod dumbly, her face blank. His face split into a grin, and without another word, he turned his back on her and bounded back towards the other Marauders.

She, on the other hand, had taken flight once more to the one place where she felt safe, surrounded only by happy memories.

And because she couldn't do anything else, she cried. She counted the stars, looked back on her past, and cried again. The stars above shone brightly, almost mockingly.

_Go away. Just go away._

Oddly enough, the stars now resembled the ever-present twinkle in his beautiful hazel eyes. If she just lay there and stare at them hard enough, she could almost pretend he was with her again.

Footfalls. That scent. That almost intuitive pounding of her heart. They were almost familiar, and yet they couldn't be. She must be hallucinating.

"Ilse?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** Hum, hum... It's the usual excuse of being too busy in school to write. Haha. Sorry for the _very long_ wait. :) Hope you like this anyway.

**Chapter Summary:** She wasn't hers to hold, so she let him go lest she get burned. But for James, the stars make it difficult to forget.

* * *

**Chapter Two  
Someone Else's Star**

"Ilse?"

There was that voice again, softer this time. She sucked in a sharp breath before steeling herself to face him. She had known it was him the moment she heard his footsteps, and his unannounced presence only fuelled her anger. "What are you doing up here?" Ilse snapped, hoping he wouldn't notice her swollen eyes.

Taken aback at her sudden display of emotion, he held up two hands. "I can't go here anymore?" It was spoken lightly, but the slight inflection in his question made it sound like he was a little hurt, and she didn't like that.

Of course she didn't.

She sighed. "Of course you can," she replied resignedly, her shoulders drooping as she turned her back on him and sat on the cold floor.

He was by her side in a flash, and she could feel his gaze on her. Ilse, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, glanced sharply at him and muttered irritably, "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

_Staring and making me feel like I'm important to you when I'm not. _Ilse didn't answer and instead tilted her head to the heavens. She almost gasped at the numerous twinkling lights dotting the darkness.

Night had been shattered.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He sidled up to her. "How many do you think are there this time?"

"The same number that's there day and night," she answered, annoyed. Why did the stars appear only when he was with her? Why didn't they want to shine for her? It wasn't like that before.

James chuckled. "You're not in a good mood tonight, are you?"

Ilse threw him another dirty look. "What do you want?" she asked wearily. "Aren't you supposed to be downstairs with Lily and..." She swallowed a particularly hard lump.

If there was bitterness in her voice, he gave no indication of having noticed it. "Sirius told me I should go look for you. He reckons I shouldn't have shown you the ring. I don't know why."

Blistering at his insensitivity, she faced him, her eyes flashing. "You don't know?" Ilse narrowed her eyes. "_Black_ knows, and _you_ don't know?" It wasn't fair for him, she realised. But this was all his fault. He had taught her how to feel, and she felt everything because of him. It was all his fault.

"I—well—" He cut himself off, having just seen her puffy eyes. "Hang on. Have you been _crying_?"

She promptly turned away. "Of course not."

"Yes, you have," James rebuked, the surprising gentleness in his voice belying that he was troubled. What could have happened to make her, normally so serene, work up enough storm so that even her eyes poured?

"Fine. I was, but not now."

James reached for her hand and held it in his; she tried to pull it away, but he only gripped it more tightly and soothed the back of it with his thumb. "What jerk did this to you?"

_What jerk?_ Ilse uttered a dry laugh that faltered at his prolonged touch. She should not be feeling this way. She should hate him just as she should hate the stars she'd come to associate with him: both of them treacherous, available only every time she decided she'd had enough of them. But how could she ever despise someone or something so beautiful? With even a tiny glimmer of light she could forget all her nights of longing and come running back to them, finding security in whatever could be spared for her. They were that powerful, and they frightened her.

When he pulled her close to his chest, she didn't resist anymore. She badly needed his light, his warmth. They stayed that way for several timeless minutes, her head just resting on his shoulder, listening to his pulse even as her own calmed.

"Felling better now?"

She gave a small nod._For the moment._

"I thought we were friends, Ilse," James said, tenderly stroking her hair.

"I thought we were friends too."

"Won't you tell me what's eating you?" She shook her head, and she heard him cluck his tongue in disapproval. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to burden you with it," Ilse replied softly.

James laughed. "Beating him to a pulp won't be any trouble at all."

"Why do you assume it's a _him_?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Why else would you cry?" He squeezed her arm and added comfortingly, "You shouldn't bother with him, you know. Whoever he is, he's not worth it."

The way he prattled, he thought he knew everything._ Git. _Ilse bristled and slapped his hand away, standing up and glaring at him. "You're right. I should leave you. I should stop waiting for you each night to come here and spend it with me. _You're not worth it_."

James gaped at her. "What?"

But she was already stomping away, her breathing heavy as she struggled to contain herself. _You blew it. You told him just like that. Now he knows, and he will laugh. You blew it yourself._

He needed only to make three long strides to catch up with her, and he grabbed her roughly by the arm.

"What did you say?"

Ilse gritted her teeth and then whirled to face him, meeting his eyes evenly. "Are you stupid or deaf?"

"Both," James answered quickly just to humour her. "Now tell me what you said before you—"

"I said," Ilse whispered, trembling, "that you were not worth it. Now let me go."

"What do I have to do with this?" he questioned, ignoring the sinking sensation in his stomach that told him that he did know. "With your pain?"

"Everything." She tried to leave, but he held her firmly in place. Ilse looked up into his face and sought understanding but only found disbelief. She turned her head to quell the sudden constricting of her throat.

His handsome face ashen, he said, "You... You like me?"

"No," she told the floor.

"No?" James echoed, mystified. "But then..."

Ilse slowly lifted her head once more, her eyes defiant. "I love you."

He froze, his grasp on her slackening. _She loves me?_

"Now that I've told you, will you please let me go?" Ilse pleaded quietly.

He still did not. His forehead was creased and his mouth set in a grim line, his stare burning her. "I didn't know."

Ilse gave a short laugh, tugging her arm away. _It's over. It's time to be strong._ "You weren't supposed to, not even at this moment. Now let me go."

James yanked her to him in one swift motion, her protests muffled by his robes. He rested the palm of his hand on the back of her head, his other arm embracing her tightly.

"Please—" Ilse could feel his fevered skin where it touched hers. What was going on? This wasn't right, and yet... "James," she sighed.

"I didn't know," James repeated, stroking her head with increased pressure. "Merlin, I'm sorry. So sorry." _And to think I told you all about Lily, showed you that ring... But I didn't know._

She stiffened but didn't step away from him. "I don't have use for your pity, James."

"I hurt you," he murmured regretfully. "I'm sorry."

This time she shoved him back and glared even as tears sprang anew to her eyes. His apology was not just for his insensitivity to her feelings or even for hurting her in the past, for she understood now that he would still hurt her after this night. He was sorry because he had caused her pain and yet could not do anything about it.

"I didn't mean to, Ilse. I had no idea that—"

She put a finger on his lips to silence him, and the soft sweetness of the gesture crumpled his heart even more.

"I know," Ilse said, her voice steady now. "It's not your fault." She smiled wryly. "It's mine. I set too much store by all our talks of stars, and I fell in love with one. Try as I might to reach you, you're someone else's. You always have been."

Strange as it was for her to be pained and yet to comfort the source of her anguish, Ilse knew she could not let him go feeling guilty like this. He cared for her, that much was certain, and although he could not return her love the way she wanted him to, it was enough.

"I could have noticed earlier—"

"It wouldn't have made any difference, would it?" Ilse told him. "We both know you're in love with Lily. Go and marry her."

James clenched his jaw. "I won't marry her."

"What?"

"Not yet. Not until..." He bit his lower lip. "Not until you're okay. Not until I know you're okay. I owe you that much."

Ilse exhaled in frustration, her anger building up once more. "James, you don't owe me anything. Or maybe you do. Yes, _you do_. Spare me your pity, marry her and live a happily ever after."

"And you?" James shot back, matching her intensity. "What will you do?"

"Move on. Forget about you."The words rolled out easily, but deep inside, she didn't know where to start. Ilse's bravado wavered, but she mastered it. "What, did you think I was going to spend the rest of my days pining over you?"

He dodged her question, guessing where it would lead. "I'm just trying to right my mistakes and make it up—"

"You can never do that," Ilse interjected, a tear slowly trickling down her left cheek, "unless you tell me you love me too, and I know that will never happen! We both know that!"

James was silent this time, worriedly appraising her. Her words were like a challenge. He could tell her he loved her if that would make her stop crying—Merlin knows he wanted to—but she was right. He couldn't lie; he didn't love her.

"Go and marry your sun, James. It's what the stars have long held in store for you." Her ribs suddenly felt too small for her heart, beating strongly in protest. "Rarely, after all, does one's destiny and desire meet."

"No." James's expression darkened, and his chin stubbornly jutted out. "I've decided, and it's final. I'm not going to marry Lily. Not until you're out of the dark."

* * *

The weeks to their final day at Hogwarts sped by, but Ilse was too preoccupied with her anger to notice. It was a powerful emotion, one that consumed her. How dare James suggest she was too deeply hurt to take care of herself that he had to do it for her? That she had been so in love with him for her to subject herself to wrenching pain? She was strong enough! She had lived before she had met him, and she would live yet again. It was only a matter of time.

As she played tug-of-war with her hair, she risked a glance at her face in the mirror. Bland and emotionless—this was the mask she had worn since the night she had confronted James... _him_, she corrected quickly to soothe the pang within her. This was what she had put on whenever she saw him holding Lily's hand, kissing her... No matter how hard she tried to avoid them, they seemed to be everywhere, flaunting her misery as though on purpose.

Ilse stared forcefully at her eyes and willed resolve to harden them. She squared her shoulders, smoothed her dress robes and inhaled deeply. _Today. Today will be the last._ She only had to struggle through breakfast and the ceremony in the morning, lunch at noon and the ball during the evening. _Four more events_, she counted to herself. _That doesn't sound so bad at all_.

She was wrong.

"Can somebody please explain why we need two hours to finish breakfast?" Ilse seethed as she squirmed in her seat. The younger students had already left to pack for the Hogwarts Express, which would be leaving at eleven, and yet all seventh-years were still scattered through the Great Hall, awaiting the Headmaster's next announcement after saying they would be "filling in the corners" for another hour. Now that the extra hour was over, Ilse sat back with her arms crossed, waiting for the dishes to be cleared.

Dumbledore tapped his goblet thrice to get everyone's attention before speaking. "If everyone can stand for a moment," he requested. The students lazily obeyed; in the instant that the Headmaster waved his wand, the tables and benches disappeared, and rows of chairs filled the hall. The Heads of Houses stepped down to direct their students into their respective seats, and amidst the commotion, Dumbledore informed them that their family and loved ones were waiting outside. Only after everybody had settled did the doors to the Great Hall open to let them in, wizards and witches and Muggles alike.

Ilse craned her neck as the guests walked in, hoping for a glimpse of her parents. When she saw her younger sister Isabelle, who waved at her and beamed unrestrainedly, her spirits lifted, and she raised her hand to return the greeting. Her mum's face was aglow with pride, and when she caught her dad's eyes, he winked. Ilse's smile widened despite herself.

Once everyone had been seated, the ceremony began with Professor McGonagall's welcoming remarks, followed by a lighthearted speech from the female Ravenclaw who was at the top of their year. Dumbledore took her place soon after. He was, as was often these days, reminding them of their responsibility to live up to seven years of magical education—and in the right way. She didn't wonder anymore, aware of the war waiting for them outside.

But she wasn't about to step out unarmed. Just a week ago, Ilse had received an owl detailing her acceptance into Auror training. To say that she was relieved would have been an understatement; she was beyond grateful, considering how mediocre her N.E.W.T.s were.

_I guess they need Aurors that badly._

The next thing Ilse knew, the seventh years were being called one by one up on stage to be awarded their certificates for having successfully completed their education at Hogwarts. Some had gotten medals, of course, for having excelled above the rest. _He_ was one of them.

"Dessalier, Ilse," Professor McGonagall said. Almost mechanically, she stood up and climbed the stairs to the stage, dully registering the teary eyes of her parents as they gazed at her. After shaking the Headmaster's hand, she wove her way back to her seat, watching silently until the last of her fellow students had been called.

"Again, my warmest congratulations to you, young witches and wizards, and to your parents as well," Professor Dumbledore began once he had taken the stage again. "Let us hope you continue to make Hogwarts proud in the future!" Cheers and applause greeted this, even from some Slytherins, and after several moments Dumbledore signalled for quiet.

"Now, to inspire us with her closing words, I'd like to call on one of this generation's brightest witches—none other than Hogwarts' very own Head Girl, Lily Evans."

There was some appreciative clapping, for Lily was indeed popular in school. But the flash of her red hair shut down Ilse' senses like a trigger, like a warning that she was about to see something about James again. She didn't need anymore of that, and so, almost instinctively, tuned everything out.

"...They speak of this war, of this darkness ready to grab us the moment we step outside. We have been told to be the light. I do not disagree, but let us remember that there will always be light... Somewhere, and we don't need to look very hard for it. We'll find it in friends, in family..." Lily paused and smiled thoughtfully, glancing meaningfully at the front row. "In love."

Ilse smiled sardonically. _That's easy for you to say._

"Like somebody always tells me, even on the blackest of nights, the stars are still out there. Whether we decide to squint and seek for it or wait for the wind to blow the clouds away, we shall find light."

The words were heartbreakingly familiar, and Ilse, for the first time, turned to look down instead of up to ease the pain.

Had she been looking several rows ahead, she would have seen James Potter twisted in his seat and staring at her.

* * *

"What do you mean you haven't asked her yet?" Sirius demanded, pacing the floor in their dormitory. "You have the girl, you know she's in love with you, you've bought the ring... What else are you waiting for, Prongs?"

James pulled at his hair in frustration. "I don't know, Sirius. I just don't know. Something tells me it's not yet the right time."

"Not the right time?" Sirius parroted in disbelief. "Ever since I can remember, you've harped on about how you can't wait to marry Lily, and now you're chickening out?"

"No!" James exclaimed. "I _do_ want to marry her. I love her!"

Sirius halted several feet from where his best friend was seated on his bed and jammed his hands into his pockets. "So what's stopping you?" When he didn't answer, Sirius sighed and leaned against the wall. "Is it her? The other girl?"

"There is no other girl, Padfoot," James explained wearily. "I don't like her that way. It's always been Lily. I just feel—"

"Guilty," Sirius supplied, earning a glare from James. "Well, I guess you ought to be. After all, you broke her heart."

James groaned. "Thanks for making it easier, Padfoot."

"Anytime," Sirius replied insincerely. "But listen, James. You can't stop living just because you can't love her the way she wants you to. She'll get over it."

"I know," James said with a sudden smile. "It isn't obvious at first glance, but she's tough that way."

"Enough about her," Sirius sharply said, not liking the turn the conversation was taking. "Are you going to ask Lily or not? Girls don't like to be kept waiting, you know."

_She kept me waiting too._ The thought was unbidden, and its disloyalty shamed him. "Right," James agreed with less resolution than he knew he ought to feel. "I'll ask her tomorrow, at the ball."

"You better, Prongs," Sirius said, his eyes still wary."If you don't ask her tomorrow night, you might never get another chance."

The following night arrived faster than James would have anticipated. Now, remembering his conversation with Sirius less than twenty-four hours before, he was certain of only one thing: he wasn't ready.

Or at least the pounding of his heart told him he was nervous.

_Of course you're nervous_, a voice inside him scolded. _It's natural to be so. _He glanced around the Great Hall, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and giving the place a festive mood. All around him, his fellow seventh years were in their best clothes, perfectly groomed, laughing and enjoying their last night at Hogwarts. That was what he should be doing, not worrying about the future.

"Are you all right, James?" he heard Lily's voice ask, and he turned to smile at her.

"I'm fine," he said, silently berating himself for letting his turmoil surface. To make it up to her, he held out his hand and said, "Would you grace another dance with me, love?"

Lily blushed, smiling happily nevertheless. She laid her hand in his and sighed blissfully as he lightly kissed it.

"Ever the debonair," Lily later teased him lightly after several seconds of swaying to the music, revelling in the wonder of being in his arms.

"Anything for my flower princess," James replied. Lily laughed at the absurdity of their sweet nothings, and he pulled her closer so that his jaw was atop her head. He could feel her breath blowing against the side of his neck, getting him into the mood. _Now this is more like it. _Courage was building up inside him now. He was finally going to muster enough nerve to ask Lily tonight.

James saw Sirius from afar, talking with that Ravenclaw who had given a speech in the morning. Their eyes met, and Sirius grinned, giving him the thumbs-up sign.

_What is that supposed to mean?_

The steady pace of his feet while he danced in tandem with Lily faltered when he saw Sirius leave the brown-haired girl and approached another, one with black hair this time. She had her back to him so he didn't recognise her, and only when she had swivelled halfway to listen to whatever Sirius was saying did he realise who she was.

It was Ilse.

James had no idea what his best friend was planning in that convoluted mind of his, but whatever it was, he wouldn't be surprised. What stunned him was the sudden roaring inside his gut, and in the madness of a split second, he wanted to hex Sirius.

But the moment passed, and he was back to his senses, appreciating the treasure he knew was in his embrace. When he next glanced at Sirius, he saw him raise his eyebrows in challenge and nod imperceptibly.

That was his cue.

"Lily," he whispered into her ear, deeply inhaling her perfume. She lifted her head to stare into his eyes, and James could almost feel triumph at the hopeful expression on her face.

"I'd like to show you something. Can we go out for a walk by ourselves?"

Lily squeezed his arm. "You should know by now that you need not ask. Of course I'll go with you, James. Anywhere."

He smiled, exhilarated. The lion prowling inside had been reduced to one big giant butterfly, fluttering helplessly, but rather bravely. _This is finally it, the time I've been waiting for._ With their fingers intertwined, he led Lily towards the giant oak doors. But, wanting one last final reassurance from Sirius, James turned and looked back—and instead met Ilse's blue eyes, noticing that they were the same grey-blue as her dress.

_Blue stars are the hottest stars in the universe._

He saw her smile, and that was the last thing he remembered as he went on his own way and out into the night.

* * *

"I see you're unengaged. Perhaps you would delight in some company," Ilse heard a deep masculine voice drawl somewhere to her right. Fighting not to show her irritation, she turned in that direction and saw Sirius Black smiling charmingly at her.

_Just my luck._

"If it's yours, I'll have to decline," she said. "I'd rather not have any." She started to walk away, but Sirius got hold of her arm.

"It's your loss. But I have to tell you," Sirius said affably, "that not all Marauders are like James."

Instantly, Ilse was on the defensive. "Yeah? What about James?"

Sirius smirked. "I knew _that_ would get you listening."

She wrenched her arm away in a huff, but he wouldn't budge. "Don't force me to hex you, Black."

"Just one dance, Ilse. Please?" Sirius watched her as her eyes flitted towards James and Lily, wrapped in their own world. Without waiting for an answer, he firmly placed his other hand on her waist and tried to initiate a rhythm.

"What do you want, Sirius?" Ilse asked, glaring at him even as she kept in step with him. "I'm as sure as hell that you aren't interested in me."

Sirius's hand on her torso tightened. "Ah, now I know what James meant when he said you have a smart mouth."

At the mention of his name, Ilse couldn't help but look at him again. Even from a distance, she found him thrilling, and yet, even this far away, he could hurt her without doing anything. Very strange it was, this thing called love.

"If you're here to tell me that I should give up on him," she whispered dangerously, "then I assure you, I already have."

"Really?" Sirius said with an elegant frown. "I was under the impression that the reason why he wouldn't ask Lily to marry him was because he felt guilty you couldn't let him go." He shot a look at James, silently telling him it was time for him to get a move on.

_What? He hasn't asked Lily yet?_ "I don't know what you're talking about, Black. I told him to go and marry Lily. You can ask him."

"You did? Really did?" Sirius couldn't believe his ears. He gazed earnestly into her face, noting its frailty, and he had only one question. "Why?"

Ilse smiled, and it seemed to him that her features were suddenly stronger. "Because I know he's in love with her, that Lily will make him happy, and that he will never love me." Her eyes misted, just like the blue sea would during a storm, and he watched her look at James once again.

"Look," she softly said, her head inclined towards the door. "I think he's about to heed our advice." Ilse grounded the balls of her feet into the floor, wanting to keep them from running after the one she loved. She tried to tear her eyes away, but she couldn't. Not when he was going to promise himself to someone else.

_Tomorrow, when the stars return to their slumber, it will all be different._

_Look at me, James, one last time,_ she pleaded silently.

Like a rare prayer granted, he turned, and their eyes connected. Ilse smiled, communicating her honest gratitude for everything they had shared.

There were tears in her eyes too, but he didn't need to know that.

* * *

"Where are we going, James?" Lily curiously questioned. They had been standing by the door to the castle for almost a minute already, and he showed no sign of knowing what to do. "Are we going to the Astronomy Tower?" she prompted.

"Astronomy Tower?" he repeated, a funny expression on his face. "No! Not there. I mean... Outside. I said we were going for a walk outside, didn't I?" James channelled his attention into unlocking the doors and getting all the latches open with his wand, after which he bowed gallantly and said, "After you, love."

Lily giggled as she stepped out and waited as he followed her. He took her hand once more, and she relaxed, thinking that he had gotten over whatever was bothering him. As they walked in silence in the dark, she wondered what James had in mind for tonight. She could sense his anxiety, and she didn't know if that meant something good.

_Maybe he's going to pop the question tonight, _she thought, recalling her roommates' speculations the night before A barely concealed giddy smile spread across her face, and she raised her head to thank the heavens for the one by her side.

"The weather's not very good tonight, is it?" Lily said, breaking the quiet and smiling coyly. She pointed at the sky. "The stars are in hiding. It isn't romantic at all."

James visibly stiffened, but with one shrug of his shoulders, his discomfort disappeared... or at least it seemed to. "True, but I don't need stars to make tonight special." He fumbled with the box inside his pocket as he struggled with the proper words, the perfect way to say what he really wanted to say. "Lily, I..."

"Yes?" She trained her big eyes on him, emeralds in the darkness.

In awe, he watched his own hazel blend with it, but he remembered blue, the tears in them making them sparkle like star sapphires.

"There's something I have to tell you."

Lily didn't speak this time, waiting expectantly.

"I... Lily, I..."

_Tell her!_ a voice, which sounded strangely like Sirius, demanded.

James clenched his fists. _No, I'm sorry._ To whom he was apologising, he did not know, but he felt the need to._I can't do it yet._ "Lily, I... You see, Lily, I'm an Animagus."

The light in her eyes dimmed, he could almost swear, but what could he do? He didn't want to ask Lily to spend the rest of her life with him when they were under the night sky he used to spend with someone else, and he was thinking of her, however vaguely. And somehow, it didn't feel right.

"You—you're an Animagus?" Lily repeated, but only in mild shock. "How... why?"

As James shook his head to rid his mind of his thoughts and concentrated on telling the love of his life the story, his instinct shouted that he had made just made the biggest mistake he would ever make.

Strangely enough, he did not regret it.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well, I must say that after writing a dozen scientific lab reports in succession and several journalistic articles, my creative juices have run dry. Next chapter (I don't know when I'll have it up), we'll see what happens after Hogwarts. :) 


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